


Hazed Visions

by TheDarkFlygon



Series: Fever February [7]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Acceptance, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Best Friends, Delirium, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fever, Gen, Hallucinations, Implied Parental Abandonment, Male Friendship, Prompt Fill, SERGE THE BUCKET, Sickfic, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-12
Updated: 2018-02-12
Packaged: 2019-03-17 12:44:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13659243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDarkFlygon/pseuds/TheDarkFlygon
Summary: [FEVER FEBRUARY - DAY 7: DELIRIUMS/HALLUCINATIONS]When you fail to effectively tame a fever down, you get exposed to getting stuff revealed in your face. Christian and Henri happen to discover a well-hidden secret of their roommate and friend, just because he's that delirious.And delirious Florian is also spewing his backstory like there's no tomorrow.





	Hazed Visions

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Fever February!  
> https://mugenthesickfic.tumblr.com/post/170469673461/introducing-fever-february
> 
> I feel like this OS is insulting, somewhat  
> and sorry for the deadnaming, but it was essential to the story
> 
> The friendship between Christian, Henri and Flo reblog if you agree

The small dorm room fills with the smells of sweat and blood as a stubbled young man is desperately filling a bucket of cold water. That implies rushing to the floor’s shared bathrooms as soon as possible, with zero care about running into someone as long as the bucket is empty.

Of course, that happens.

 

He runs into a familiar face from their class. Of fucking course.

“Christian?!” the other glassed man reacts, clearly upset by just getting smashed into. “Can I know what the hell you, Florian and Henri are up to, once and for all? You’re making too much noise for anyone to focus properly!”

“Don’t have time for you Thomas,” he blurts out as he needs to stop for the least amount of time possible, “I have a fever to bring down!”

As he rushes to the bathroom holding his trusty bucket (whose nickname is Serge because that’s how crazy the situation has become), he can hear his classmate wonder aloud about what fever he’s talking about. Too bad he won’t get to know for now, huh.

 

Once he’s back with a bucket which could freeze his hands, Christian carefully puts it down next to the only occupied bed of the room. Henri is still there, sitting on a chair, wiping their roommate’s face. Roommate whose face displays something like torture and agony, if his constant moaning and clenched teeth are any indication of how he feels like.

“Thomas’s wondering what the fuck we’re doing. What do we tell him?”

“I’ll take care of it when I get to go the goddamn bathroom,” Henri grunts back. “For now, go fetch me a towel.”

And so Christian does, until he realizes it’s either his or Henri’s. He sighs and grabs his, throws it at his other roommate, and goes back into the main part of the room.

 

“If you have to piss,” he tells Henri, “let me take care of Flo for a bit. You sound like you’ve been there all night,” he pauses, “which is a bit true, after all.”

Henri gets up, stumbling upon himself, then looks at his own roommate.

“Thanks a bunch, man. I’m coming back asap.”

He then leaves the room, sighing in relief, as Christian takes his place on the chair. For the first time of the day, he gets to see how their friend is actually doing.

 

And it’s a goddamn catastrophe.

 

Florian is clutching the sheets, panting and grunting at the same time, clutching his teeth as he contorts, maybe trying to get rid of the fever. It’s become impossible to take his temperature with the only thermometer they have, as he refuses to even open his mouth now. They can only guess the fever isn’t lowering in the slightest, considering he’s been that miserable for a full day now. That was the worst time to be Sunday, because they know for sure he can’t afford hospitalization, nor losing his side job. There’s also no nurse on Sundays because school nurses are the worst.

So instead, they’re stuck with a very ill and feverish Florian, because the guy is intelligent enough to be a literature master but dumb enough to overwork himself to a terrible fever which wants to destroy everything about him. That’s terrifying, in a way, how not himself he is when he’s afflicted with a severe ailment.

 

For the first time in what feels like ages, he creaks his eyes open. Christian is already grabbing his glasses, neatly folded on the nightstand, to give him because otherwise he’s blind as a bat. One time, he mistook Sophia for Bouquinerie, and while that was hilarious, it’s the moment for him to mistake him for whatever teacher they have he doesn’t like, no matter how far the stretch ends up being.

He can already see that his eyes, despite being mainly closed down, are bloodshot and unfocused. His friend probably won’t stay up for long enough for them to explain to him everything and why he shouldn’t worry about class. He’s been in-and-out so much, he probably thinks it’s either Friday or Monday.

 

The sick one of them stirs numbly, coughs, then stares directly at him with the weakest glaze Christian has ever seen.

“D-dad…?” he slurs before coughing again.

Uh-oh, seems like he’s in for a wild ride.

“No, I’m not your dad Flo. I’m Chris, your roommate.”

“I thought you were gone dad…”

Okay, he’s _fucked_ to Jupiter and back.

 

Maybe calling him by his full name will work…

“Florian? Florian, you’re with us? Florian?”

Instead of a response, all he gets is shivers down his spine from how out of reality his friend is. It’s not just the eyes: it’s also the half-opened mouth, the pants, the frowned eyebrows… Everything in him screams fever: his deadly pale yet flushed face, the sweat pearling down his temples Christian wipes away in vain, his dark rings… It’s almost not Florian anymore.

“Florian…? That’s got a nice ring to it, dad…”

He isn’t even reacting to his own name. Great. That’s just great. How is a forsaken college student supposed to deal with identity-removing deliriums like that?!

“What do you mean? That’s your name. You’re Florian Moinot.”

“Dad… I’m supposed to choose my new name… Not you… I like it a lot though… Reminds me of flowers…”

 

Christian feels a drop of cold sweat going down his temple. Not only is Florian thinking he’s his father: he’s speaking like he isn’t even Florian in the first place! How is he also supposed to give back his identity so he’s… Oh, right, he heard one name completely stranger to both Henri and him, one time, when Florian had fallen asleep on his work yet again.

“Catherine?”

“Yeah…?”

Are you fucking kidding him. This is the name he reacts to? Christian needs an explanation, right now. And maybe a week worth of rest, because that’s some paranormal stuff.

 

Henri comes back into the room, looking refreshed.

“How’s it going with Flo, Chris?” he asks as he grabs a second chair and joins his roommates.

“Bad,” Christian replies, “very bad. He’s conscious, but he’s clearly not with us. He doesn’t even react to his first name, Henri! The only way to get his attention is to somehow call him Catherine.”

“Catherine? That doesn’t make sense.”

“I know, right? He even said once he hated that name, when we wanted to name the orchid. That’s weird he would react to that.”

“Have you tried making him a little less hot in there? Like opening his shirt?”

“Mom…?”

 

Christian and Henri both stared at each other. Now that didn’t make any sense, it was twice the wrong gender.

“Flo… I mean _Catherine_ , we aren’t your parents,” he said as a pitiful attempt not to be the mother, which would have made Christian laugh far more than his small snickers.

The glasses-wearing man went to unbutton a bit his friend’s pyjama top as Henri made diversion.

“I know your sight is probably garbage right now, but we aren’t your parents, at all. You’re in Lakanal, F… Catherine.”

“Lakanal… That’s not where I have class… Where’s the school…? Mom…?”

“Chris,” Henri’s voice shifts to worry, “I think he’s back in high school in his mind. No wonder why he doesn’t recognize us.”

“He’s got a weird undershirt. Do I take it off?”

“No!!”

 

Florian suddenly crawls back into a ball.

“Don’t touch that! Don’t…. touch that…”

It looks he’s going to pass out for a few seconds, then he’s back to… whatever the hell he’s in right now.

“I thought you were gone… Mom… Dad…”

Christian and Henri glance at each other and just keep quiet. There’s no way in speaking to Florian: he’s right now too far gone for them to bring him back to reason. Maybe they’ll get something if they let him babble his delirium away.

“You said you’d disowned me… That you’d never see my face again… I’m surprised you changed your minds about that… It’s too late though, I’m getting to Lakanal whether you want it or not…”

Oh, so the time has gone by in his mind. His voice trembles, which is quite the disturbing sight for both his friends, who’ve never seen him that way until that very moment.

“Don’t even call me Catherine again… I’m not Catherine… She’s your invention…”

That’s such a puzzle.

 

His eyes close down again as he inhales and exhales heavily, with labour, before they open up again. They look much more focused this time, and he grabs his glasses by himself. Henri puts a hand on his forehead: the small smile on his face can only indicate the fever has lowered for a bit.

“Florian, you’re back with us?” Christian asks. Urgh, the worry dripping down from his mouth is so _cheesy_.

“What do you mean, back with you…? I just woke up, right… You two seem like you’ve seen a ghost…”

Henri grabs the fallen washcloth, dips it in Serge, and wipes the sick guy’s face again, before repeating the process and just letting it there.

“Your fever got so high you started to hallucinate we were your parents,” explains Christian to the best of his understandings. “Your mind was stuck in high school, that scared the crap out of us!”

 

He blinks a few times, rubs his eyes and blushes. His eyes grow wide.

“W-wait, high school, you said?! Tell me,” he suddenly gets upset, “was I reacting to my own name? Florian, I mean.”

“That’s a very specific question there,” Henri replies, “but you weren’t reacting to it. You were reacting to another name, though.”

“Catherine.”

Henri and Christian don’t have to look at each other to know they wonder about the same thing.

“How did you guess?” Henri asks.

 

Florian’s eyes get dark, his glaze lowers, and he looks at his hands and chest area.

“That’s my given name.”

The cold, atone voice sends shivers down the two guys’ spines. This is completely out-of-character.

“Your given name isn’t Florian? That’s weird as fuck.”

“No, it was Catherine… And that’s a long story for another day, but I guess I should tell you something I’ve hidden for a while…”

 

Henri deadpans a bit.

“Will it explain the syringe in your nightstand and the used pads from the bathroom when we’re all single? Well, especially you and Chris I mean.”

“It does. Guys, I’m…”

His face distorts into sorrow as he seems to choke on his words.

“I’m… I’m… I’m a… I’m t… T…”

He buries himself in his hands, reddening by the second. He eventually spits out his response in a rush.

“I’m born female, I’m transitioning, please don’t ask, just call me Florian and we’ll get this over with!!”

 

The two friends look at each other in confusion, then glance at their roommate with the most compassionate look. That’s so fucking cheesy. Henri puts a hand on his left shoulder, Christian on the right one.

“Hey, Flo. You’ve always been Flo to us,” Henri says, “and you’ll always be Flo. We don’t care you were born a Catherine or whatever.”

“Henri’s right, Flo,” Christian adds. “Your parents may have been assholes, but we couldn’t care less. You’re our Flo, understood? We’ll not let you down for such a…” Maybe “trivial” is undermining the issue at stake. “Such a reason.”

 

Florian’s face radiates with a small but heartfelt smile.

“I should have trusted you earlier, guys.”

**Author's Note:**

> I actually had that idea in mind since the day I mentioned it in Sollicitude chapter 4 and wrote out the prompts forf Fever February. I didn't know where to end it sadly, but nothing prevents me from rewriting it one day.  
> Except Chris or Henri mentions Florian said his parents were dead, but it was all metaphorical in literature nerd's mind. I guess.
> 
> Also I guess I had to write again about Florian's transidentity because hello dysphoria


End file.
